


Close Quarters

by Miri1984



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, in an alley, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: There was Art and then there was Fic and THE CYCLE CONTINUES
Relationships: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Close Quarters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [areyouokaypanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouokaypanda/gifts).



Gods why was Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde so fucking  _ big… _

It wasn’t the first time Grizzop had had that thought. Somehow he always managed to forget that the damn bard was almost three times his height and not exactly skinny with it. Sure he wasn’t all broad shoulders and muscle like Bertie had been but he had enough heft to him that shoving him into a dark doorway took some effort and the soft curse he let out as his stupid head hit the curving arch over it reminded Grizzop that he couldn’t just be  _ put  _ places like Hamid or Zolf could. 

He wouldn’t even have tried with Azu, but that said if he’d been in this situation with Azu he wouldn’t have bothered. The two of them together, with Artemis and Aphrodite on their sides, were enough to intimidate most petty thugs out of the idea of an ambush or a mugging. 

In the privacy of his own head Grizzop would admit that it was the presence of the six foot six glowing pink orc that would dissuade them rather than his own righteous indignation.

At least at first.

But with Wilde it was different. The idiot wasn’t suited to combat or anything other than looking pretty and doing paperwork and apparently attempting (badly) to settle himself into small spaces. 

He’d crouched down to fit, so his head was more than usually close to Grizzop’s, and Grizzop had one hand shoved into his shirt, holding him back, willing him to be quiet as he tilted his ears towards the street beyond. He could feel the soft whuff of Wilde’s breath against his ear, and he had to stop himself from flicking it in irritation, the earring on its end could hit him in the face, and while that was a tempting thought he wanted them both to be still and quiet.

Wilde’s breath was warm, though, ghosting over the edge of his ear. And he smelled like something… something fresh and forest like, pine needles, maybe? 

What did that bastard put in his bath?

Why was his brain so stuck on his  _ smell? _

Wilde moved forward. “Are they still out there?” he breathed, even closer now, soft and low, but not a whisper, because Wilde was smarter than that, something Grizzop didn’t often give him credit for.

His breath…  _ Artemis help him  _ his breath was hot and  _ beautiful  _ against Grizzop’s skin.

He couldn’t hear anything out there, and he turned, meaning to tell Wilde to be quiet, meaning to tell Wilde to get out of his  _ space  _ so he could  _ think. _

Wilde’s face was so much closer than he’d thought it would be. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, to have his eyes at that level,, to have the first thing he saw plump, slightly damp lips parted over the words Wilde had just said. He stared, unable, for a second, to tear his eyes away from them, from their perfect shape, the creases of his skin. He blinked, then managed to look up.

Oh.

He looked up into Wilde’s eyes, wide and dark in the gloom. They were fixed on Grizzop’s with an intensity he’d never experienced before. He could feel it, deep in his belly, and lower.

_ Oh. _

The hand that had been gripping Wilde’s shirt tightened. Grizzop didn’t think he’d told it to do that, but it was suddenly very, very important that Wilde not move. More than it had been. Why had it been before, exactly?

“Are they gone?” Wilde asked again, and Grizzop assumed they were, it had been minutes… possibly hours since they’d found themselves in this cramped space with nothing but Wilde’s breath and Wilde’s scent and Wilde’s… fingers… on his chin.

Gods they were soft.

“Who?” Grizzop asked, leaning forwards, reaching the hand that wasn’t tangled in Oscar’s shirt up towards the back of his neck.

“I have no idea,” Wilde murmured against his lips.

Then…

_ Then… _

Well, they kissed. In that.

Oscar’s beautiful, plump lips found Grizzop’s and they were mobile and soft and gently insistent and Grizzop tilted his head and yanked Oscar closer because  _ Artemis save him  _ he wanted more of them, more of the soft gentle teasing of his tongue against Grizzop’s teeth more of his too-large-just-right hands roaming over his back more of his soft gasp for breath before he leaned in again more of his fingers cupped against his skull more more more…

“Ah… you guys seen a…”

Grizzop whipped his head around to see a city watch guard standing in the light of the doorway they were hiding in. 

“A what?” he asked, flatly.

“Never mind,” the woman stammered. “Sorry to interrupt.” She retreated, and Grizzop turned back to see Oscar silently laughing.

Grizzop punched him. Lightly. Then magnanimously allowed himself to be kissed again. Almost senseless.

Eventually they moved somewhere less cramped. 


End file.
